Scar Tissue
by Luke In Blue
Summary: [SLASH WiltEduardo], Eduardo finds himself in an uncomfortable position. Wilt has always been there to help a friend, but will his charity get him in too deep? This fic contains sexual content for mature audiences only. COMPLETE
1. Chapter 1

1**Scar Tissue - CHAPTER ONE**

_By: Fala "The Bus Esta Muerto" Tzipori  
_  
**Written:** Winter, 2006  
**Fandom:** Foster's Home For Imaginary Friends  
**Rating:** R  
**Genre:** Romance, angst  
**Pairing(s):** Wilt/Eduardo  
**Warnings:** Slash (same-sex relations), sexuality (fairly explicit in future chapters), mature situations, implied child abuse and sexual violence, strife and fluff.

**Plot:** Eduardo finds himself in an uncomfortable position. Fortunately, Wilt has always been there to help a friend in need, but will his charity get him in too deep?

**Spoilers:** None, I don't think.

**Thanks and dedications:** Praises pile high like the rubbish on the floor of my flat for Cousin Sarky who is, hands down, the most extraordinarily ace beta reader on the face of the internet. Seriously, I cannot thank you enough. Really, thank you for putting up with me and slogging through all thirty-some pages of this. You rule beyond words. A side note to Danni, aka Xellinamazoku, aka Grips from inspiring me to try my hand at these two in the first place. Lots o' loff to ye, dear.

**Disclaimers:** Wilt, Eduardo, and the characters in this story belong to Craig McCracken. Here's hoping he's not reading this right now, else his next appearance will be sans eyeballs (having ripped them out with sporks). In any case, they're his, not mine (both the eyeballs and the aforementioned characters, mind you) and will be returned in almost working order.

**Story Notes:** This takes place shortly after Bloo arrives at Foster's while Eduardo is still fairly new himself (he's only been there for a few months). Also, in case you didn't catch the previous warning, this fic DOES CONTAIN SEXUAL CONTENT. Don't like it? Don't read it. Otherwise, enjoy!

**Scar Tissue**

There was something about Eduardo that caught Wilt's attention right from the outset. From his very first day at Foster's, when he, Eduardo, was brought in, crying and scared, Wilt had taken a special interest in the big imaginary friend. He'd made it his personal duty to see that Eduardo settled happily into his new home. Though Eduardo had, at first, been afraid of the tall, heavily scarred imaginary friend, Wilt was patient and eventually won him over. He'd been at Foster's for scarcely four months now and the two were the best of friends. They'd shared a great many things in their time together and one could almost say that they knew each other inside and out. Almost.

However, nothing in those four months had prepared Wilt for the sight he met one fateful morning in the hallway.

Wilt came downstairs, en route to the dining room for breakfast, to find Eduardo apparently attached to one of the supports in the main hall. Actually, it appeared at first that what he was doing was rubbing up against the pillar much in the way that a bear scratches its back against a tree. However, there was one significant difference. He was most definitely not scratching his back as it was his entire front that was pressed up to the column, grinding ferociously against the smooth, marble surface.

Sensing an intrusion, Eduardo's head snapped up and he froze under Wilt's dumbstruck gaze.

"Sorry!" Wilt said automatically, when nothing else would come to him.

Eduardo, reason slowly returning, very delicately went about peeling himself off of the pillar and backing away from it. He looked bewildered and possibly a trifle ill.

Wilt asked, "You okay, Ed?"

Still wide-eyed and startled, Eduardo nodded slowly. "I think so . . ."

"If it's okay to ask," Wilt said, sensing he might be crossing into forbidden territory, "what was that all about?"

The other imaginary friend shifted uncomfortably. "I don't know," he said, confusion and possibly a note of frustration evident in his voice. "I wake up this morning and I feel really . . . off."

Wilt leaned in close to study his friend, concerned. "Are you ill?"

Eduardo shook his head. "I no feel sick, just . . . weird."

Surely enough, the other friend's face betrayed no signs of ailing except maybe the warmth of a fever, though even that could have just been embarrassment.

Mentally kicking himself for barging in on . . . something, Wilt suggested, "Breakfast?"

Seeming grateful for an excuse to put this behind him, Eduardo nodded. "Si," and they trekked downstairs.

At first it seemed that they had, indeed, put the incident behind them. They sat down to a full, fried breakfast (the first Sunday of every month meant Frankie's "Famished Lumberjack Special") just as always. The new guy, Blooregard "Bloo" Kazoo, was in the middle of some joke about a hedgehog, and Coco bade them good-morning with her usual goggle-eyed smile, her tongue poking out of her beak.

Platters were passed round the table, eggs, bacon and pancakes piled up on everyone's plates and breakfast proceeded without incident. Wilt, who had helped himself to a healthy portion of sausages and fried tomatoes, discreetly swivelled his good eye round so that he could watch Eduardo out of the corner of it. The other imaginary friend seemed to have overcome whatever it was that had affected him and was happily working away at a mountain of eggs that resembled a small, screaming-yellow volcano. Satisfied, Wilt turned his attention to his plate and eagerly tucked in.

Twenty minutes into the meal, Wilt was about to ask Eduardo if he had any washing that needed doing today. Before he could get as much out, he noticed that his friend was trembling and seemed to have trouble sitting still. At first, Wilt was content to ignore this, for courtesy's sake. However, by the time they were finished their breakfast, the trembling had escalated to full-scale squirming in his seat and frantic crossing and uncrossing of knees. He'd gripped his fork so hard in his cloven hoof that he'd bent it in half.

Eduardo wasn't the smallest friend at the table and as such, his actions were equally large-scale and obvious. A few other friends were surreptitiously sneaking glances at him and Wilt realised he could not longer pretend it wasn't noticeable. Ignoring the stares, he lifted his hand, placing it on Eduardo's forehead. He nearly jumped out of his seat, finding that the other friend was giving off as much heat as a small furnace. Eduardo turned to look at him in surprise, and Wilt could see that he was, indeed, flushed. In addition, the sudden physical contact had him shaking even worse than before. "You are running one heck of a fever," Wilt commented, his good eye wide. "You should really go up and see Frankie so she can give you some meds for that. I'll go with you, if you want."

Eduardo managed a single nod, and creaked out a weak "Si, por favor." Wilt took his hoof and helped the other friend disengage himself, still shaking, from his chair.

By the time they'd reached Frankie's room, Eduardo had calmed down a bit and Wilt was subtly flexing his fingers, which had been squeezed to the point of crushing when he'd led his friend upstairs.

"So what seems to be the problem, here?" Frankie asked in her best school nurse voice, swivelling round in her rollie-chair to face the two. They had taken seats on her bed, balanced oddly on the mattress that sank dramatically beneath the massive imaginary friend. Eduardo wasn't shaking anymore, but he was sitting with his knees firmly together, his cloven hooves fidgeting in his lap.

"We're really not sure," Wilt answered for his friend. He was inclined slightly to the left on account of the mattress sloping to accommodate Eduardo's weight. "He says he doesn't feel sick, but I think he's running a fever."

"Fever, eh?" Frankie murmured in the clinically rhetorical manner utilised by health professionals everywhere. She popped open the first aid kit on her desk and dug out a thermometre. She handed this to Eduardo, who took great care in putting it in his mouth without shattering it between his teeth.

"Do you feel sleepy at all?" she asked.

Eduardo shook his head and the tiny sprig of glass clinked against an incisor that was twice its length. Seeing as he had the thermometre and couldn't easily speak for himself, Wilt added, "Actually, he's been pretty energetic all morning. He could hardly sit still today at breakfast."

Frankie made a noncommittal "hm" noise. "So he did have breakfast and kept it down okay?"

Eduardo nodded and Wilt added, "So far, so good."

"Okay, then it's not the flu," Frankie noted, reciting from a mental list of symptoms. "Sore throat?"

Eduardo shook his head, no.

"Runny nose? Dizziness?"

No and no.

Frankie frowned a bit, clearly stumped. Her eyes flickered with query behind a few wisps of auburn fringe and she reached for the thermometre. "Well, you are a little warm, but I don't think it's a fever," she mused aloud, wiping off the little glass instrument with an antibacterial tissue. "What about abnormal behaviour? Anything weird happening with you?"

Wilt bit his lip, and looked to Eduardo. The other friend had a deer-in-headlights look, but finally gave an embarrassed nod of assent. Wilt told Frankie what he'd seen earlier that morning. When he'd finished, he noticed Eduardo studying the floor in detail and looking distinctly uncomfortable, so he placed a reassuring hand on his friend's shoulder. Eduardo shivered at the touch, but did not pull away. In fact, Wilt could have sworn that for a moment, Eduardo had actually been leaning into his palm.

Frankie herself appeared a little uneasy. Wilt looked to her for the answer she was clearly trying to decide how to give. Finally, after a brief, contemplative wringing of fingers, she spoke. "Er, Ed, I don't really know how to tell you this," she said very carefully. " But, I think you're in heat."

Wilt's jaw dropped. Eduardo lifted his gaze from the floor and stared at her.

Frankie quickly launched into explanation, her hands dancing animatedly in the air with her words. "It's perfectly normal. Well, actually, I've never seen it happen to an imaginary friend, myself, but it's not unheard of. Your girl wasn't very young when she imagined you if I remember it right, so she was probably a bit more well-informed about these things . . . Also, a lot of other cultures aren't as touchy as Americans are about it and kids are taught early on. Or it could be that the family just had un-fixed pets in the house and the kids learned from seeing them-"

"Broken pets?" Eduardo interrupted. He looked mortified.

"Er, no." Frankie gave him a strange look. "The point is that your creator was obviously mature enough to, how shall I say this? . . . Equip you with _all_ the trimmings and now you're in heat."

Eduardo tilted his head at a questioning angle. "Heat? But is the middle of Febrero. Is very cold outside."

Wilt, who had been pressing his knuckles to his teeth, nearly sheared the skin right off them.

Frankie blinked. "Ed, do you even know what it means to be in heat? Did anyone ever tell you about the birds and the bees?"

Eduardo nodded enthusiastically.

"Okay, let me rephrase that. Did anyone ever tell you about sex?"

Eduardo looked blank.

At this point, Wilt couldn't have felt more awkward if he were a tightrope-walking antelope balanced between two lions. He stood, possibly a little too quickly. "Should I wait outside?"

"That's probably for the best," Frankie agreed, watching him go. Sighing resignedly, she thought for a moment, then reached into the first aid kit and retrieved a lollipop, which she handed to Eduardo. "You might want to get comfortable. This could take a while."

Approximately two hours later, Frankie's door flew open and Wilt found himself on the receiving end of six hundred pounds of hysterical, sobbing Eduardo.

Frankie followed shortly after and shoved what appeared to be her entire stock of lollipops into the still stunned Wilt's hand. They crushed into his palm with a weak squeal of cellophane. She threw him a worried, pleading look and mouthed "take care of him."

Not quite over the shock, Wilt nodded mutely and turned to follow his friend who had taken off, howling, in the direction of their room.

Once he reached the door, Wilt paused. He could hear Eduardo wailing inside and decided it might be best to give his friend a moment alone. That way, he could also ensure that no-one walked in on him.

Whilst Wilt was performing the role of doorman, Frankie passed by, mop in hand. He flagged her down.

"He didn't take that very well at all," she commented, shifting the mop handle so that it leaned against her shoulder. "Then again, when Grandma first told me where babies come from, I had nightmares for a week."

Wilt just nodded.

"Look, I realise it probably won't be that comfortable for him to sleep in a shared room," Frankie said, a sympathetic half-smile tipping her mouth, "so I talked to Herriman and you two can take the sitting room. Convinced him that it's the basketball playoffs latenight showings all week for Ed's Ecuador Guerreros and your Big Apple Dunklings. Good thing the bunny's not a basketball fan." She dropped Wilt a wink.

He managed a smile in return, then asked, "So, that's how long this is going to go on for? A week?"

"Not sure, really," Frankie said. "I looked up some stuff on the internet for a few different animals, and their cycles can last up to a month or even longer sometimes."

When she saw the dread etching itself onto Wilt's features, she lifted a finger. "But, if you want my personal theory," she said, "I gave it a little thought . . . Eduardo's not an animal, he's an imaginary friend who was created by a human girl. And being human and a girl myself," she wrinkled her nose, "Well, I'd give it about a week."

The tall imaginary friend shuffled his feet uncomfortably and Frankie had to suppress a laugh. Boys. Girls might not have any trouble talking about their girlie issues, but it never failed to freak out even the maturest of guys. "And hey, sorry to dump this whole business on you," she added. "You're his best friend and somehow, I don't think Coco or Bloo would've been right for the job."

He had to agree with her there. "It's all right, I understand."

"Yer, well, I just have to ask," Frankie said, and it appeared to be her turn to look uncomfortable. "Do you, yourself, ever . . . You know . . ." She fidgeted with the mop.

Wilt felt his face grow warm and his throat tighten toward the back. His little girl had been fairly young, but she had seen -and experienced- all too much for someone her age. Wilt knew quite well that she had neglected to endow him quite on purpose.

Frankie regarded him expectantly, her face tinged with pink. He looked away and shrugged, trying to sound casual as he forced memories back behind their respective mental blocks. "I . . . I know the basics of it, if that's what you mean," he answered guardedly, apparently fascinated with the toe of his shoe.

Fortunately, this seemed to satisfy Frankie and she shifted the mop to her other shoulder. "Right, well, just try to keep an eye on him, okay? I don't want this to get all round the house. The others might start making comments and he'd never get any peace."

"I'll try," Wilt promised and she smiled gratefully, plucking one of the lollipops from his hand. He blinked and looked down, only then realising that he was still holding them.

"Thanks, Wilt. If you need any help, just ask me, okay?"

"Okay," he answered, and she continued down the hallway. He watched her till she disappeared round the corner, his uncertainty growing with the distance between them.

Wilt decided to wait outside for just a bit longer, till the weeping (since his conversation with Frankie, it had, indeed, died down from full-scale bawling to good, old-fashioned weeping) from the other side of the door quieted down. Soon enough, when he could no longer hear anything more than the occasional whimper, Wilt knocked on the door. "It's me, Ed. Can I come in?"

Several seconds passed before he heard a feeble, reluctant "Si," in response. Mindful not to drop the lollipops, he pushed the door open.

Eduardo was curled up in the top bunk where he slept. He had the duvet drawn up to his nose so that only his eyes, the top of his head and horns were visible, and he was peering miserably out at the world.

"Hi, Ed," Wilt said, trying to be as upbeat as possible. He took a moment to place the handful of lollipops safely under the lower bunk where he slept, having learned through experience that if sweets were to remain uneaten, they had to be placed out of the sight of Bloo. He pulled one 'pop from the pile and climbed onto the framework of the lower bunk so that he could rest his elbows on the edge of Eduardo's mattress. The friend in question scooted a small ways away.

"Hey, it's okay," Wilt said reassuringly, holding out the lollipop in offering.

"No, is not," Eduardo whimpered from behind the blanket. He still had tears in his eyes. "Is so embarrassing!"

"Aw, you don't have to be embarrassed with me," Wilt said, smiling. He made a valiant attempt to radiate optimism and project it onto the other friend. "I won't tell anyone, and I promised Frankie I'd take care of you till we get this sorted out. Is that okay?"

Eduardo sniffled a bit, but gave a tiny nod in response.

"In fact, you won't even have to sleep in here at night," Wilt added brightly. "Frankie's fixed it so that we can sleep in the sitting room all week. That'll be fun, won't it? We can stay up all night, play video games, watch the telly-"

" 'We?' " Eduardo broke in, blinking questioningly. " 'We' as in you too? You are going to sleep there with me?"

"Of course " Wilt laughed. "I mean, if that's okay. You don't have to go through this alone. I want to be there for you, if you'll have me."

Eduardo just looked at Wilt for a moment, considering his offer. And what was it he was offering, exactly? Eduardo considered his options. He could either attempt to wrestle with this strange, new development on his own, or invest trust in a friend to help him through this particularly personal journey. Either way left openings for humiliation and social scars aplenty. Then again, when had Wilt ever caused him either? Wilt was nothing if not helpful, and right now, Eduardo could use all the help he could get.

Slowly, he nodded and lifted a hoof to accept the lollipop Wilt was still holding out to him. "Si, okay."

Wilt grinned. "Great. Look, I'm going to go take the washing down, then I'd like to go out and shoot a few hoops. You just take it nice and easy today. After dinner, we can take your pillow and blanket and your favourite stuffed animals down to the sitting room and set up the couch for you. Unless you want me to stay with you for a while?"

Eduardo considered only briefly. "No . . . Is all right. You can go."

"Righty-o. I'll come back a bit later to check on you, okay?" He reached over to give Eduardo a friendly ruffle between the horns before turning to leave, unknowing as to how fast the simple touch had left his friend's heart beating.

Eduardo did not leave the room all day, except to use the toilet. As it had happened at breakfast, the throbbing, needly heat attacked him in rolling waves throughout the day, and he spent a great deal of time pacing madly round the room or tossing and turning in the relative sanctuary of his bed. Several times, he caught himself reenacting his earlier stunt with the pillar on a stretch of wall, or one of the bedposts. As the spell faded, shame sank in and again, he backed away. He didn't understand what was happening to him, and he didn't really want to. He just wanted it to go away quickly and let him be.

Attempts at napping were fruitless and he felt as if the flow of time had slowed and thickened, like a brew that had begun to congeal. Minutes passed as painfully as hours and it seemed an eternity before Wilt returned.

After knocking and ensuring it was okay to come in, Wilt strode jauntily into the room to find Eduardo sitting, hugging his knees in the corner.

" 'Lo, Ed," Wilt said cheerfully, taking a seat on the floor. There was a towel draped over his neck and shoulders and he'd come in holding the basketball between his waist and upper arm while his hand toted a six-pack of root beer and a plastic bag. He disengaged a can from the pack and tossed it to Eduardo before pulling one out for himself.

Eduardo popped the can open wordlessly and sipped. The cool, sugary pop was a breath of fresh air in his current feverish state.

"How're things going, then?" Wilt asked conversationally, pressing his own, cold can to the side of his face, which was damp with sweat. "You doing okay?"

"I guess," Eduardo answered, shifting uneasily. He could already feel another bout coming on.

"As well as can be expected?" Wilt asked kindly. But before Eduardo could answer, he was shuddering again, moaning and squirming where he sat. Hooves dug into the floorboards and horns left dents in the wall as he fought for control.

Wilt lifted his hand, intent on comforting his friend, but stopped himself, sensing it would be for the best if he kept his distance. He lowered his hand and offered what assistance he could, staying where he was. "Easy, Ed, easy. Just take deep breaths. Try counting backwards from twenty. You're okay . . . You're going to be all right."

One painfully distended moment later, relative normalcy settled back in, and Eduardo was slumped against the wall, exhausted.

The tall friend simply observed him for a moment, looking on as he panted, his face flushed. Wilt's mouth twisted into a curved line of sympathy. "That bad, huh?"

Eduardo just creaked an eye open, still catching his breath. He watched his friend's hand find the bag, long, skilled fingers working the plastic zipper open.

"I brought grapes," Wilt offered hopefully, extracting a smallish bunch from the bag and jiggling it for the other friend to see.

Finally finding his voice, Eduardo asked weakly, "What about you?"

"Oh, there's more in the bag, plenty for both of us."

"No, I mean . . ." Eduardo stammered, "You never- I mean . . . This never happen to you?"

Wilt lowered his gaze. "Sorry, no."

"Well, why me!" Eduardo wailed pitifully. "Is no fair! Why is this happening to me!"

Wilt was silent for a moment, then he said quietly, "Because things happen. That's just the way it is. Sometimes they're good, and sometimes they're bad. And when something bad happens, well, we just deal with it and move on." He shrugged and Eduardo's heart thumped heavily in his chest as the stump that remained of Wilt's left arm rose and fell with the movement. The mangled eyestalk bobbed a bit as Wilt tipped his head at an encouraging angle and offered his friend a small, bittersweet smile. "I'm sorry, but we don't really have much of a choice. Now, open wide."

Eduardo took a moment to let this sink in before obliging the request, whereupon Wilt began merrily flicking grapes into his mouth.


	2. Chapter 2

**Scar Tissue - CHAPTER TWO**

_By: Fala "The Bus Esta Muerto" Tzipori  
_  
**Written:** Winter, 2006  
**Fandom:** Foster's Home For Imaginary Friends  
**Rating:** R  
**Genre:** Romance, angst  
**Pairing(s):** Wilt/Eduardo  
**Warnings:** Slash (same-sex relations), sexuality (semi explicit), mature situations, implied child abuse and sexual violence, strife and fluff.

**Plot:** Eduardo finds himself in an uncomfortable position. Fortunately, Wilt has always been there to help a friend in need, but will his charity get him in too deep?

**Spoilers:** None, I don't think.

**Thanks and dedications:** Praises pile high like the rubbish on the floor of my flat for Cousin Sarky who is, hands down, the most extraordinarily ace beta reader on the face of the internet. Seriously, I cannot thank you enough. Really, thank you for putting up with me and slogging through all thirty-some pages of this. You rule beyond words. A side note to Danni, aka Xellinamazoku, aka Grips from inspiring me to try my hand at these two in the first place. Lots o' loff to ye, dear.

**Disclaimers:** Wilt, Eduardo, and the characters in this story belong to Craig McCracken. Here's hoping he's not reading this right now, else his next appearance will be sans eyeballs (having ripped them out with sporks). In any case, they're his, not mine (both the eyeballs and the aforementioned characters, mind you) and will be returned in almost working order. The fact that I'm not a gamer should evidenced by the videogame titles I've used in this story (i.e. I made them up and they do not exist). _Enterprise_ belongs to Paramount and _Eastenders_ belongs to Beelzebub. Not that I really want them anyway.

**Story Notes:** This takes place shortly after Bloo arrives at Foster's while Eduardo is still fairly new himself (he's only been there for a few months). For those who missed the last warning, there is some **FAIRLY GRAPHIC SEXUALITY (male/male) IN THIS CHAPTER**. **Kindly do not read if that is not to you your taste. **If you're only reading this to flame me, I will laugh at you. Lots. This fic was actually something a bit different for me in many ways, but especially in that the sex comes before the love. Usually it's the other way round . . . We'll see how it plays out, yes? Either way, enjoy!

**Scar Tissue**

That evening, Frankie brought Wilt and Eduardo's dinner up to their room. After munching their respective meals into completion, they gathered up Wilt's blanket, Eduardo's duvet and pillow and stuffed animals. They made it down to the sitting room without incident and watched the tail end of _Enterprise_ with Coco, Bloo and a few others. No questions were asked when Eduardo politely excused himself, muttering something about needing the toilet.

When he returned, it was time for bed and everyone was heading upstairs (or, in Bloo's case, whinging about how it wasn't fair that Wilt and Eduardo got to stay up).

"You want to set up the GameSphere?" Wilt suggested, pausing in smoothing Eduardo's duvet over the sofa cushions to gesture toward the video games. "Or I could get a board game from the game room."

When no answer was forthcoming, Wilt turned and noted that Eduardo was huddled on the floor at the other side of the room, looking hot and uncomfortable.

"Ah, you want a minute alone?" Wilt inquired politely. When he received an embarrassed nod in response, he made a graceful exit.

Eduardo watched the door shut behind the other friend and released the long sigh-moan he'd been holding in. This new affliction was a constant presence. It was a permanent, uncomfortable, shivery sort of warmth that stuck to him like a shadow, though it fluctuated between varying degrees of intensity. Once again, he felt a stirring in his lower abdomen, like something lithe and hot uncoiling in his pelvis. It sent rushes of electric heat along his limbs, making his muscles tense and his hindquarters light and springy. He felt his consciousness slipping into a haze, so thick and heady that it took him a full three minutes to process the sight of his left hoof shifting of its own volition, dipping into the gap between his legs . . .

The entranced friend's eyes snapped open as he felt the hardness of his own hoof through the fabric of his trousers and he jerked his arm back. His body cried out in protest and he had to sit on his hooves to keep them from another attempt.

No. He must maintain control. Whatever Frankie had said about it being "perfectly natural" was all wrong. Imaginary Friends were supposed to live happy, carefree lives with their creators, enjoying days filled with laughter and play. They were creatures of whim, the product of young innocence, and they were not supposed to harbour such filthy things as lust. Lust was neither whimsical nor innocent, therefore it was unnatural and alien to him. Eduardo would not let it have its way, never let himself be controlled by it, no matter how much it hurt him . . .

Eduardo whimpered and put his full weight on his hooves, trapping them for good. The diabolic heat inside him coiled itself in a tight rage at being denied, making restraint painful and shame amplified. For what felt like the frillionth time that day, he put his head on his knees and cried.

Wilt gave his friend a good fifteen minutes before returning to the sitting room. After receiving a choked "Si," in response to his knock, he opened the door and came in, balancing a plate and a pair of mugs on a long, flat box that served as a tray.

"All right, Ed?" he asked, even though he knew perfectly well that Eduardo was the furthest thing from all right. It seemed that denial was contagious, however, because the friend in question managed a soft "si," in response. Wilt set the box down. "Sorry?"

"I say, 'Si'" Eduardo repeated, a little louder.

Wilt laughed and took a seat across from his friend on the floor. "No, no, I mean would you like to play Sorry?" He transferred the mugs and plate to the floor and indicated the box. "It's my favourite board game."

Eduardo couldn't help but giggle at the inherent humour in that and happily obliged. "Si, let's play. Can I be amarillo?"

"Sure. I'll be red," Wilt agreed, setting up the board game and handing Eduardo the yellow playing piece. "I brought cocoa and biscuits, too," he added, pushing a mug and the plate over to the other friend. "And I got another controller so we can play each other at Ubiquitous Space Blobs after this if you want to."

Eduardo smiled just a tiny bit and placed his yellow game piece on the starting space. Perhaps this wouldn't be so bad after all.

2.17 AM found Wilt shutting off the GameSphere and tidying up the sitting room floor while Eduardo pulled himself into the bed he'd set up on the sofa. After finishing off their cocoa and their third round of Sorry, the two friends had played video games till Eduardo couldn't keep his eyes open. The combination of games, munchies and good company had kept him occupied, effectively taking his mind off things for several hours.

He hit the pillow snoring and Wilt smiled to himself, feeling accomplished as he set the mugs and plate to the side. Quite sleepy himself, he yawned, sprawling out on the floor beside the sofa. If Eduardo needed him, he'd be right there. Within moments, he slipped into a well-deserved sleep.

- o -

The following morning, Eduardo woke up feeling particularly well-rested. He glanced blearily at the clock on the far wall. It read 11.48 AM.

He sat up quickly, realising with chagrin that he'd slept in and missed breakfast. Sighing, he hauled himself off the couch and stretched, wondering vaguely where Wilt was.

He didn't have long to wonder, however, because he spotted the friend in question leaning against the wall in the outside hallway as he was quitting the room.

"Oh good, you're awake," Wilt commented. In an ironic role-reversal of sorts, it seemed he had become a sort of guardian friend, because he'd spent a great deal of the morning standing outside of the door to ensure his friend got as much sleep as possible. He tossed Eduardo something wrapped in a paper serviette. "Here, I nicked a doughnut for you."

"Gracias," Eduardo said, catching the little parcel and swallowing its contents in one gulp.

The day passed fairly quickly, much to Eduardo's relief. Wilt kept him busy throughout the afternoon and evening with games, long walks round the property and other activities. It was no easy task considering the problem was getting worse and harnessing Eduardo's urges proved increasingly taxing for them both. By the time they'd finished dinner, the two were exhausted and ready for bed.

Eduardo, however, found himself in a bind. The need inside him had not lessened since yesterday and denying it all day hadn't helped. Now, in the darkness with nothing to distract him, the heat was welling up in his nether regions, far too intense to ignore. He was gritting his teeth with the effort required to maintain control. Caught in a fugue of carnal need, he didn't even realise it when he thrashed wildly against the stirring in his body, arching against the back of the sofa. It wasn't until he felt a slight weight settle just above his shoulder blade that he came back to himself. Startled at the sudden touch, Eduardo yelped and hurled himself into a sitting position.

"Whoa, Ed! Take it easy, it's just me."

Eduardo felt the whirling chaos round him slow itself as Wilt's voice reached him, softly commanding in the darkness. At first he could just make out the distinctively-shaped head leaning in close, then his expression registered, inquisitive and concerned.

"Are you okay?" the voice asked again. "What's the matter? Was it a bad dream?"

Breathless and helpless, Eduardo found he couldn't answer any of those questions. He wasn't okay, Wilt knew perfectly well what the matter was, and no, he couldn't honestly fault a dream. Any dreams he might have had left his mind the moment he'd awoken and burning, aching need had filled the void.

To make things worse, Wilt's hand found his shoulder in what should have been a comforting gesture. However, the contact sent searing heat spiraling down his spine, baiting the beast which leapt at this new prompt. In a rush of blinding fire, the darkness heaved, the silence rang, and Wilt was no longer a mere friend, but a warmly illuminated prospect within his reach.

Wilt's gasp caught in his throat when Eduardo lunged forward and seized him. Only when he was brought flush against the other friend did he manage a yelp of surprise and Eduardo, brought back to earth by the sharp little noise, dropped him.

As the spindly shape on the floor registered in his mind and the realisation of his actions with it, Eduardo burst into tears. "I sorry," he whimpered between sobs, curling onto himself and hiding his face behind his hooves. "I sorry . . . I sorry . . ."

A long moment stretched painfully in which the room, which would have been otherwise silent, rang with Eduardo's misery.

Finally, in a shifting of shapes in the darkness, Wilt collected himself and broke gently into the tearful mantra. "Ed . . . It's okay."

"No, is not!" Eduardo sobbed wretchedly, the broken strains of his voice amid already broken English hurting Wilt to hear. "I . . . I is so sorry, Senor Wilt. So sorry."

"You don't need to apologise," Wilt contested softly, sounding further away than he was. "I'm the one who should be sorry. I had no idea it was this bad, that just touching you would . . ." He faltered, then sighed, collecting his wits. "Look, Ed, you know if you need something, all you have to do is ask."

Eduardo lifted his head as he felt the couch cushions sink just a bit under the other friend's slight weight. A strangled gasp escaped him as he felt Wilt's hand upon his chest, and heat exploded throughout his body again. "Senor Wilt, what are you-? "

"Shush." Wilt admonished gently, placing a single padded fingertip against Eduardo's upper lip, silencing him. "Sorry, but we're going to have to be really quiet."

The larger friend's already pounding heart threatened to break free of his ribcage when he felt that hand leave his mouth and travel downward, seeking awkwardly till it found his belt buckle. His mouth fell open just a bit and a gasp hissed through his teeth. It was gasp both of surprise and effort. He felt himself shuddering beneath the touch as desire twined lethally with conflict. Even as Wilt's dexterous fingers were working the skull-shaped buckle free, Eduardo felt his urges threatening to overpower his self-control. He couldn't let that happen. He could not ask this of his friend and he wouldn't.

Wilt had successfully made it past the buckle and was now working at the button-fly of the trousers. Buttons, however, were no easy obstacle when one had only a single hand to work with, and the way the other friend was shaking tremendously didn't help any. "Sorry, but could you help me with this?"

Eduardo swallowed, summoning a begrudging strain of protest amidst the anarchic haze blanketing his mind. The hoof he lifted Wilt had expected to assist him in undoing the cussed buttons. However, it simply rested over his hand, a placatory gesture. Wilt looked up, confused. "Ed?"

"S-Senor Wilt," Eduardo stammered, fighting for control and teetering on the brink of losing it. "You really no need to- You shouldn't . . . I . . . "

Wilt regarded the other friend impassively, his expression and voice equally unreadable. "You _need_ this, Ed. I can see it. Now, give me a hand with this, please?" He used his knuckles to gently nudge past the other friend's hoof.

Eduardo whimpered. He could feel the last vestiges of his self control crumbling away. "Pero . . ."

In a sudden, surprising reversal, Wilt slid his hand from beneath his friend's hoof, only to cover it with his palm. It was a firm gesture, but caring also, and however desperate the situation was becoming, Eduardo felt somehow more comfortable. Even in his rare moments of assertiveness, Wilt was never truly forceful. He had an innate gentleness that could never be overcome, even in the face of another's stubbornness.

"Eduardo . . ." Even the next words to leave his lips, though commanding, were spoken softly, like distant thunder. "Let me help you."

In a moment of terrible conflict, Eduardo took a last, valiant stand against his baser instincts. However, one glimpse of Wilt's face, his expression temperate but unmoveable, and Eduardo's defences abandoned him. Sealing defeat with a sigh, he put his shaking hooves to the task. It was a minute's work under the impassive gaze of Wilt's good eye, then the trousers were off, dropped unceremoniously over the side of the sofa and forgotten.

For a moment, the two simply regarded each other in silence, Eduardo hugging his knees to his chest and blushing furiously while Wilt looked on. Finally, he leaned in close, and Eduardo could feel himself blazing beneath the small, dark silhouette. The other friend placed his hand on Eduardo's shoulder and pressed gently. "Lie back."

Eduardo took a deep, shuddering breath and slowly uncurled himself, falling back against the armrest. Though self-consciousness still rode strong, the rolling heat inside was leaping like lava, like a beast at the bars of a cage in anticipation of finally being fed. He nearly cried out in fiery urgency as he felt Wilt's hand trailing down his leg.

Wilt could feel Eduardo trembling even through the lush coat of fur, heavy muscles quickening beneath his palm. He was so tense . . . Wilt looked up, concerned. The other friend's shoulders were pressed up against the armrest. His face was turned to the side, terrified, hot and humiliated, and his eyes were closed, trying to shut out the inevitable. Sharp teeth were digging into an abused-looking lower lip in anticipation, threatening to draw blood. There was no gratitude in his surrender, no relief at finally being granted release, only anguish and fear of the unknown. He wasn't welcoming Wilt's solution. He was bracing himself for it.

Wilt felt his heart clench. This called for a detour from his intended path.

Eduardo started when he felt a light touch against his jaw. He opened his eyes, one at a time and looked up where Wilt was leaning in close to him, gently petting side of his face, willing the tension away. He whispered, "Don't be afraid."

It was remarkable, the effect Wilt had on him. Whenever the world scared his heart to pounding, there was something in the taller friend's voice and touch that could soothe it all back to normal. He was exercising his uncanny ability to quiet the demons that plagued his friend, regarding him with a sort of patient insistence. Unable to speak, Eduardo willed himself to relax beneath the other friend's watchful gaze and gentle hand.

Satisfied, Wilt resumed his previous task, clambering back to the other end of the couch. With a soft press of his palm, he eased the other friend's legs just a bit further apart. Eduardo's heart, already pounding fit to burst, positively thundered in his chest, his insides afire as Wilt lowered his head.

Time seemed to suspend itself as he paused only long enough to murmur, "Just breathe . . ."

Resigned to his fate at last, Eduardo did, drawing a slow, full breath, and waited for the darkness to erupt.

- o -

The following day passed in balmy blur of activity meant to gear Eduardo's focus off of himself. As they had yesterday, he and Wilt followed each other round like puppies, though, in Eduardo's case, possibly with a bit more spring in his step. By dinnertime, Eduardo felt his ever-strengthening urges starting to come to a head, hot and turgid from being neglected all day. However, he was determined to make it for a bit longer and kept his rear firmly planted on the chair. Those who had been sat nearby him would later testify that he'd been munching his pasta in a decidedly intense manner. He was certain that he would, again, call upon Wilt's talents to help him cope.

Sure enough, ten minutes after midnight found Eduardo stretched out on the couch, Wilt positioned between his knees.

They had made it through half a game of Spanish-is-okay Scrabble before the hormones refused point-blank to wait any longer. Eduardo had stopped in the middle of laying down "ARCO," looked up and met Wilt's eye. No questions needed asking. Wilt had understood right off and set the half-decorated board aside while Eduardo went about divesting himself of his trousers.

It was easier getting started the second time round, though Eduardo was still a bit shy. It had, again, taken a bit of coaxing from Wilt before he finally submitted himself, blushing madly.

The previous night, it was all so urgent that Wilt had gotten straight to it without preamble. However, tonight things were less awkward, the need less immediate, that they were actually able to make it a longer, more detailed exercise in release. Though he lacked experience, Wilt was intuitive and knew that a slow build-up made for an even better climax.

This time, Wilt began by using only his hand, supple and adroit from years of having to accomplish twice as much with only one. His touches were soft and slow, so that Eduardo was just leaning back, breathing dreamily in time to the dance of his talented fingers. This was only a warm-up, after all. At one point, when he'd sensed the other friend might be getting a little too excited too fast, he'd taken it down a notch and softly intoned, "Not yet."

Once he was assured that the other friend had loosened up, he kicked up the pace little by very little, curling his fingers just a bit tighter to add an edge of delicious friction. Sure enough, Eduardo's breaths slowly shifted to gasps and deep moans of pleasure and pleas for more, more.

They were not being very quiet at all, Wilt realised. The last thing he wanted was for someone to wake up and . . . Thinking quickly, he shifted his long legs, one of which was already trailing off the sofa, and moved his foot toward Eduardo's belt which had been tossed carelessly to the floor. Without missing a beat, he pulled it toward him, then bent down and picked it up with his teeth. Still pumping away with his hand, he leaned forward and passed the belt to the other friend's mouth, their lips brushing very lightly as he placed it carefully between Eduardo's teeth. Taking the hint, Eduardo bit down, making muffled noises behind the thick leather strap.

Satisfied that they weren't going to wake everyone up and that Eduardo had been suitably primed, Wilt finally lowered his head and put his tongue to work. The warm, wet contact elicited a deep, rumbling hum from Eduardo. His offerings were earnest, though tentative at first. Wilt was not rehearsed in this at all, having nothing of his own to practise on. However, one thing that Wilt had going for him was that he was a fast learner and generally talented. So, while he was not versed in the technique, the knack was there and he was not slow to improve it.

Eduardo's breathing had accelerated into ragged gasps and he was digging into the sofa cushions with the points of his hooves. Wilt had taken as much as he could into his mouth, covering the rest with his hand. He moved with athletic timing, arching his tongue, slicking exquisite, wet heat over already sensitive skin. Molten pleasure undulated in the larger friend's abdomen, stirring itself white-hot as Wilt slid over him, hand and head not quite synchronised, weaving scintillating asymmetry.

Lost in a haze of lusty brilliance, Eduardo knew only the fiery currents of pleasure flickering down his limbs, illuminating his insides. Moaning behind the belt, he subconsciously rocked into the wet-hot orifice that engulfed him. Wilt was speeding up, throwing himself into the task with dazzling vigour, and Eduardo felt the night moving in time with him, as if the very stars themselves were hurling fire into his body. The momentum gathered in an explosive rush such that it could no longer be bridled. He had to bite back the resulting cataclysmic cry as all of the tension of a day spent holding himself back was finally expelled.

For a moment, Eduardo could only lie back, breathing deeply while the orgasm petered away. Wilt's hand remained, his fingers gently easing the last of the intensity away so that relaxation could settle in its wake. Eduardo turned his head to the side and released the belt from his teeth, letting it clatter noisily to the floor. Feeling as though his limbs might never obey him again, he watched blearily as Wilt retrieved a tissue from the box on the night stand and delicately spat into it. It was several moments before Eduardo's heart slowed to normalcy and the shadows stopped swimming round the room. He sat up, the tang of leather in his mouth. Wilt was cleaning off his face.

Still dazed, Eduardo simply watched. Once Wilt had finished wiping his face, he crumpled the tissue and began licking his hand clean. Eduardo noted vaguely that he had come quite a lot tonight and blushed. Noticing the other friend's stare, Wilt paused in his self-maintenance. "Was that okay?" he asked. He had asked the same thing last night, too.

"Si," Eduardo nodded slowly, bringing his knees to his chest with effort. "Very okay."

Wilt nodded, satisfied, though he privately marvelled. For all that this was new to him, he seemed to be doing a pretty decent job of it. Though his lack of experience should have hindered him, it did not. It was as if his body knew what his mind did not, that his hand picked the speed and pace for him, that his tongue knew to curl and press just like so . . . He felt an uncomfortable prod at the corners of his memory and hastily resumed licking his hand.

Eduardo watched, entranced as Wilt continued washing, almost cat-like. The skilled tongue lapped at equally talented fingers and scrubbed along his knuckles and palm. That wristband was going to need a trip to the washing machine, too . . . When every last bit of evidence had been licked away, Wilt reached for another tissue, again spitting into it. Wadding the lot into one big ball, he tossed it across the room, into the wastepaper basket.

"Dos pointos," Eduardo announced, grinning like an utter nutbucket. Wilt turned to offer his own smile, a soft little arc in the darkness. The other friend's heart bounced.

Wilt slid off the side of the sofa, a long sliver of shadow in the already dark room. As he reclined on the floor, mere inches away, Eduardo felt warmth of an entirely different sort blanket his heart. He snuggled down into the duvet and pillows, though sleep was not soon to approach. He contented himself with simply watching Wilt's little chest rise and fall with his breath in the darkness, in the afterglow.

- o -

The following morning, Frankie awoke to her alarm clock's latest attempt to massacre her eardrums. She charitably dropped a fist onto the cussed thing in response and stretched to greet the day. Sliding out of bed, she pulled on her lilac bathrobe and headed for the door, en route to the loo. However, no sooner had she turned the knob when she found herself face-to-face with a mouth full of nightmarishly sharp teeth.

"Ah, morning Ed," she yawned into her palm. "You're up early."

Eduardo muttered a noncommittal "Si," and rubbed at his eye with the round of a hoof. In truth, he'd lain awake for hours before coming up and waiting patiently outside of her door. "Frankie . . . Can I talk to you?"

Frankie blinked, taking a moment to clear the "morning funk" out of her mind. "Um, I have to shower and get breakfast started, but if you need a few minutes, sure." She stepped back to let him into the room. He came in and had a seat on her bed. Swinging his legs over the edge, he looked like a little kid who had borrowed a minotaur's body for the day.

"So, what's up?" she asked, taking a brush from her desk and running it through her hair.

"Erm . . . Frankie . . ." Eduardo started, fidgeting shyly with his hooves. "How do you know when you are in love?"


	3. Chapter 3

**Scar Tissue - CHAPTER THREE**

_By: Fala "The Bus Esta Muerto" Tzipori  
_  
**Written:** Winter, 2006  
**Fandom:** Foster's Home For Imaginary Friends  
**Rating:** R  
**Genre:** Romance, angst  
**Pairing(s):** Wilt/Eduardo  
**Warnings:** Slash (same-sex relations), mature situations, implied child abuse and sexual violence, strife and fluff.

**Plot:** Eduardo finds himself in an uncomfortable position. Fortunately, Wilt has always been there to help a friend in need, but will his charity get him in too deep?

**Spoilers:** None, I don't think.

**Thanks and dedications:** Praises pile high like the rubbish on the floor of my flat for Cousin Sarky who is, hands down, the most extraordinarily ace beta reader on the face of the internet. Seriously, I cannot thank you enough. Really, thank you for putting up with me and slogging through all thirty-some pages of this. You rule beyond words. A side note to Danni, aka Xellinamazoku, aka Grips from inspiring me to try my hand at these two in the first place. Lots o' loff to ye, dear.

**Disclaimers:** Wilt, Eduardo, and the characters in this story belong to Craig McCracken. Here's hoping he's not reading this right now, else his next appearance will be sans eyeballs (having ripped them out with sporks). In any case, they're his, not mine (both the eyeballs and the aforementioned characters, mind you) and will be returned in almost working order.

**Story Notes:** This takes place shortly after Bloo arrives at Foster's while Eduardo is still fairly new himself (he's only been there for a few months). The quote about Monopoly money was borrowed from _The Young Ones_. The fact that I'm not a gamer should evidenced by the videogame titles I've used in this story (i.e. I made them up and they do not exist). Enjoy!

**Scar Tissue**

Eduardo found himself navigating through a gigglish haze. The week was progressing, his hormones were fading with it and something completely different was flooding the void they left behind. Even as he sat at the breakfast table, tucking into some salted porridge, Eduardo couldn't help glancing at the imaginary friend beside him and relishing in the sheer bliss that welled up inside as a result.

He had never been in love. He wasn't even sure he knew what it meant to truly love someone as humans understood it. But Wilt . . . Wilt had always been there for him in a way that no one else had and he had truly outdone himself this week. Even though he lacked the appropriate equipment to help Eduardo in the way that nature dictated, he'd given all he had and more. Eduardo loved him for that, and if what he was feeling for Wilt wasn't love, then he didn't know what was.

Eduardo spent the next few days pondering just what he should do about it. Of course, this meant mostly delving into his vast mental library of chick flicks and daytime television for ideas . . . Flowers? Chocolates? A puppy with a bow round its neck?

Flowers were out, what with Wilt's allergies, and the last chocolates that came into his possession had ended up surreptitiously disappearing into Bloo. Little Chuey didn't have a bow, but several of Wilt's socks had teeth holes in them, so that wouldn't work . . .

Finally, Saturday rolled round, marking their last night together in the sitting room. Eduardo's cycle was on its last legs and none of the films or programmes he'd researched had helped at all. He desperately wanted to do something special that night, something to thank Wilt for all he'd done and possibly open up a whole new world of possibilities . . .

But what?

Fortunately, the opportunity dropped itself right into his waiting hooves. That night, after they'd completed their session and cleaned up the afters, neither was really tired, so they flicked on the television. There was a twenty-four hour _Eastenders_ marathon playing and Eduardo settled down on the sofa, content to watch till an idea came to him. Or until he fell asleep to the sounds of bad acting and embellished drama, drowning in the failure of his first chance with someone.

However, he happened to glance to the side and something else snagged his attention. Just a short distance away, at the other end of the couch, Wilt was opening and closing his mouth slowly, massaging his jaw with his knuckles.

Eduardo reached across the way and tapped him. "Your mouth is hurting, Senor Wilt?"

Wilt looked startled first, then embarrassed. "Only a little bit," he admitted, dropping his hand swiftly into his lap and internally scolding himself for being so obvious. "No big deal, really."

Eduardo scooted closer to him. "I help you," he said, and before Wilt could reply, he was being lifted effortlessly off the sofa and placed on his friend's lap. "E-Ed, no really, it's okay-"

"You can only do uno side at a time when you have only uno hand," Eduardo reasoned simply, lifting his hooves to the sides of the other friend's face. "Is right here?"

"Um, just a bit lower, thanks . . ." Wilt replied automatically, still reeling a bit at being caught off guard. "Sorry, but not quite so hard, if that's okay?"

Eduardo obligingly lightened up a bit, pressing his the rounds of his hooves gently into the sides of his friend's face, working soothing circles round the tired, aching jaw.

The initial shock of being touched ebbing away, Wilt actually found himself loosening beneath the massage, his good eye shuddering closed and his mouth falling open. Eduardo heard the resulting sigh of contentment and felt accomplished. After so many nights in a row of oral favours, of course Wilt's jaw was going to be sore. Since he'd done his friend such a tremendous service, it was the least Eduardo could do to put out a bit in return. Besides, he rather liked the warm weight of his friend on his lap, feeling him relax beneath his touch. The slight press of Wilt's body on his legs did things for him that even his mouth hadn't. Emboldened, Eduardo began widening his circles, seeking further tension he could ease away. His hoof brushed a scar.

In a terrible, lurching moment, the calm was broken to bits by the razor-edged gasp as Wilt jolted violently. Eduardo nearly cried out himself as the other friend clapped his hand to the side of his face, shaking madly.

Eduardo blinked away the shock, his hoof coming to a rest over his own pounding heart. "S-Senor Wilt . . . You okay?"

Wilt was now bent over slightly, the shock having cleared all of his circuits, settling. He was trying to slow his breathing. ". . . Yes," he half said, half gasped, his hand still clamped over the side of his face.

At a loss, Eduardo lifted a hoof in what he hoped was a comforting gesture. Wilt, however, mistook him and shrank away, slipping off his lap. "N-no, don't touch it," he said in an odd, quavering monotone.

"I . . . I sorry," Eduardo choked out, guilt prickling wetly at the corners of his eyes. He'd finally had a chance to get close to Wilt, to let him into a new world of affection and happiness, and he'd blown it away with a single touch. His lower lip trembled and he pressed his hoof to it. "Eduardo has done something very bad . . ."

"No, Ed," Wilt said quietly, finally starting come back to himself, though he still shuddered. "You were only trying to help. You didn't know."

There was a very loaded pause in which Wilt breathed deeply and Eduardo struggled against the urge to reach out to him again. It seemed an eternity before Wilt's hand parted company with his face and even then, the descent was slow and visibly reluctant. He said quietly, "I'm sorry . . . I think I'd like to go to bed now. Is that okay?"

"S-si," Eduardo stammered. "You are really okay?"

Wilt couldn't answer for a moment, then finally managed a shaken, "I'll be okay."

Within a moment, he was on the floor, summoning the escape of sleep. Eduardo couldn't help but notice that he wasn't in his usual, stretched-out position, but rather curled onto his side. The guilt bit down harder. Eduardo sighed, burrowing into his own bedding and feeling more painfully awkward than ever.

- o -

The following morning, they woke up early to move Eduardo's bedding back into their room. It had taken till they reached the stairs for Eduardo to remember the events of last night, but if Wilt recalled it, he certainly didn't show it. He was as cheerful as ever, playing the apparent and convenient memory loss card for all it was worth.

At breakfast, Eduardo pushed his spoon round his cornflakes, recalling a certain bit of Frankie's "talk." She had explained the basic nature of what was happening to him and compared two possible aspects; Animals are driven by instinct to reproduce while humans usually just do it because it "feels good." She also said that humans often take it that extra step further as part of the romantic package when two people fall in love.

This had prompted some deep thought on Eduardo's part Was he, biologically speaking, an animal? He certainly resembled one, that was for sure. However, while he was most definitely not human, he was the product of a human mind, that device which was capable of such things as art and war and love . . .

Eduardo shook his head, blinking in surprise at himself. Several days ago, he never would have given anything that sort of thought. He really had come a long way.

The more thought he put into the matter, the more tangled the situation became in his head. Reciprocating the favours, for example, would be a creative challenge. Wilt didn't have any sort of sexual anatomy. So far as anyone could tell, Wilt didn't even have a sex drive. Wilt had serviced him simply because Eduardo had needed that from him. Not that it hadn't been good. It had been really quite good, even. Eduardo's only regret was that the other friend garnered no pleasure of his own from their sessions together. When they were finished, he simply got up, cleaned off with a tissue and asked, "Was that okay?" He had a blank, almost guarded expression the entire time, and afterward, went about the resulting day acting as if nothing had happened. It was as if he closed up and put himself on autopilot for the act itself, then switched back on afterward. Eduardo knew that Wilt had a penchant for darting behind invisible walls when certain topics were broached, but to shut down completely? Not that Eduardo wanted him spreading this round, but his unruffled behaviour was a little off-putting.

Suffice to say, Eduardo was a little frustrated and he wanted answers. He was almost afraid of those answers, but he knew he had to risk it. He had to try.

The following afternoon found Wilt venturing into the kitchen. After a few discreet inquiries of Madame Foster, he'd learned that herbal tea was good for aches and pains, so he put the kettle on, absentmindedly rubbing his sore jaw.

As he was going about fixing up a cup of Camomile, he heard footsteps enter the kitchen and looked over his shoulder. "Oh, hey Ed," he greeted the other friend cheerfully. He hadn't realised that Eduardo had actually tailed him on his way to the kitchen and spent the past five minutes or so standing out in the hallway, trying to cobble together what he was going to say.

Wilt felt he could read anxiety in his friend's features, flickering behind eyes which would not meet his own. "Something wrong?"

"No, nothing wrong." Eduardo answered cagily. He leaned against a cupboard, with a very slight noise of the door being pressed further into the wood. "Can . . . I ask you something?"

"Of course. You can ask me anything you'd like." Out came the broad, benevolent smile that was so oft-seen round the house. The kettle was whistling now, and Wilt carefully poured himself a cupful. He took the cup by the handle and had a seat at the table, watching the water turn the sallow-brown shade of an old photograph.

"Want to ask . . ." the other friend started, shuffling nervousness. Finally, he managed to creak out, "Eduardo want you to stay with him again tonight." He did it. As accomplishment swiftly yielding to anxiety, he held his breath and waited.

Wilt blinked. "Sure, if that's what you want. But your cycle is over," he reasoned. "You don't need me anymore."

"No . . ." Eduardo admitted, lowering his gaze further still. He swallowed, struggling to bridle the words that were trying to leap from his mouth all at once. Finally, with considerable effort, he managed to edge them out in an orderly fashion. "But I _want_ you."

Wilt looked at him for a moment, wondering just what Eduardo was getting at. Then he saw his friend lifting his gaze, slowly, shyly. He was blushing. Wilt tensed as panic extended a claw and scratched down the back of his neck. Oh Lord, that couldn't be it. Could it? He felt his jaw clench (and spasm painfully) as he fought off dread suspicion. But, surely not . . . "Look, Ed," he said finally, balancing his words and tone carefully. "If you're thinking about next time, don't worry. I'll be there for you when you need me again."

Eduardo heaved a grating sigh. He just wasn't getting it. "That's no what I mean, Wilt!" He gesticulated madly, hooves hurtling through the air like stones. "I mean before next time - after this! All the time!" he spat out wildly, desperately, struggling with the language that was not his first.

For his part, Wilt felt paralysed, able only to stare and wonder what he should say next. It was just as he'd feared. Eduardo couldn't possibly know what he was really feeling, what he was really getting into. No, he couldn't possibly . . . He was still reeling from the past week, caught up in the sweet aftermath of a struggle overcome. Lust was easily forded because it was shallow and, in the right hands, fairly simple to tame. These other matters, however, ran deeper than the mind could comprehend, and were every bit as deft, elusive and perilous.

There was also the tangle of complexities therein to consider. Wilt had been in the world long enough to know that affairs of the heart were not exclusive to male-plus-female pairs and that same-sex relationships happened every day. However, where gender should have been at the root of the issue, it was not. Though Wilt felt quite confidently male, his ambiguous anatomy would make an affair such as this a strange gamble. Not to mention all of the internal issues that would probably never be overcome . . .

He shook his head. Eduardo had come a long way, but there was still so much he didn't know. Wilt could not and would not let the unknown hurt his friend as it had hurt him. ". . . I didn't mean for this to be an ongoing thing," he said finally, though it was not without a struggle. "I helped you because you're my friend and you needed me then."

"But I want you now, " Eduardo insisted. He added quickly, blushing, "And no just for that."

Ever the fumbling and desperate youngster, no matter how old his body insisted he was . . . Wilt looked at him sadly, knowing that he had to do the right thing for both of their sakes, even if it ended in tears. "It's just not a good match. You shouldn't throw yourself at the first person who does you a favour. I'm old, I've seen too much in this world. I'm . . . I'm broken." Wilt's voice and gaze fell.

Eduardo scowled, folding his arms. "Don't care," he half-growled, though it was imploring. "You're no that old."

Wilt would not look up to face him. It had never been easy for him to refuse anyone, and he knew there was a good chance he would not be able to say "no" to the pleading in Eduardo's eyes. He stared determinedly down into his cup. "Please, Ed, give yourself a chance. You deserve someone young, someone new. Someone _whole_."

Eduardo stood his ground, unaffected. "I want _you_."

"Well, why me!" Wilt asked sharply. "Why with so many others-? So many others who don't have scars and histories, who are pretty and smart and could actually give you what I can't! Why would you want to get involved with someone as messed up as me!"

It was only when Wilt saw Eduardo hiding behind his hooves that he realised he'd been shouting. The very room seemed to reverberate with the silence that welled up in the absence of the outburst. Feeling a stab of guilt and shame, Wilt shrank back behind his walls and stared down at his tea, still untouched. The automatic "Sorry" left his lips without his notice or consent.

The consequent reply came, small, wounded and struggling through suppressed tears. "B-because . . . I love you. And I want you to love me, too."

The stark silence which followed was made more painful by the strangled sobs trying to claw their way out of Eduardo's throat. Wilt summoned steel into his nerves, smothering the empathy that flickered inside. He was not difficult to breach when someone needed help reaching something on a high shelf or a kind word was in order, but some things . . . . Some things he just could not grant entry. They had come before, leaving him in ruins, and he'd simply built up his fortress again, even stronger and more impenetrable than before, like scar tissue. He even had the scars to prove it.

He fixed his stare on the dull glimmer of his tea, his hand grasping the mug tightly enough to keep himself from shaking beneath the strain. Control, always. "I'm sorry, Eduardo," he finally murmured softly, refusing to look up and steadying his voice when it threatened to betray him. "I'm sorry, but that's one thing I can't help you with."

- o -

Six o'clock that evening found Frankie hanging up the phone in the kitchen, having confirmed her address to the pizza people. The intercom was having issues today, refusing to work (a condition worsened significantly by a brief round of Mr. Herriman's DIY), so she simply went from room to room, announcing that dinner would be here soon.

When she reached the room shared between Wilt, Eduardo, Coco and Bloo, she found the door shut, half of its occupants sitting out in the hall with a game board spread out between them. "Hey guys, what're you doing out here? Are Wilt and Eduardo in there?"

Bloo looked up from the game of Monopoly he'd been playing with Coco. "Not sure where Wilt is, barely seen him all afternoon. Ed's locked himself in our room and won't let anyone in. Probably crying again, I expect. Is it pepperoni pizza? Because the pizza that Mac always ordered involved waaaay too many vegetables for my liking-"

Frankie had to hand it to him, Bloo was an impressive specimen. Most of the newcomers took a fair bit of time adjusting to their new home and being away from their creators. Bloo, however, had handled it beautifully. He'd only been here for a little over a week, yet he was always able to express himself so thoroughly and without difficulty. So Frankie ignored him. "Why is Eduardo crying?"

"Dunno," Bloo answered. "But wouldn't it be ah-_mazing_ if all this money was real-"

"Co coco, co co co," Coco broke in, rolling the dice. As per tradition, she had swallowed her game piece and was now using a bit of Kendal Mintcake as a substitute, this being one food that was too disgusting even for her to eat. With nimble toes, she pushed the Kendal four spaces up. "Coco co."

"Right, thanks Coco," Frankie said, having just been informed that Wilt had been playing Crushing Smashing Galactic Madness 3 in the sitting room for the past hour or so. "Wash up, you guys. Pizza's on its way."

She was then walking down the hallway, to the sitting room. If Eduardo was crying, then he surely wouldn't want to come down to dinner, she concluded, making a mental note to set aside a few slices of pizza for him for later.

True to Coco's word, Frankie found Wilt playing video games in the sitting room. While this should not have been anything unusual, there was a something . . . off. She looked at him curiously, watching him work the controller with his single, doubly-dexterous hand. Though he was playing with practised diligence, she could tell that his heart wasn't in it. She had known him longer than anyone else in the house. It was her who had found him in the alley that night, so many years ago. She had been the one to carry him up all five flights of stairs to the makeshift infirmary, dress his wounds and watch him transform from a broken shadow to a confident and capable individual. At this point, there was very little he could conceal from her.

"Hey Wilt," she said, trying to sound cheerful and unsuspecting in hopes of countering whatever was hanging over his head. "Dinner should be here in about five if you want to go wash up."

"Oh, hi Frankie," he said, looking up from his game, not bothering to pause it. He fabricated a quick smile for her. "Sorry, but I'm not very hungry."

She took a seat on the sofa next to him, taking care not to bump the remains of his arm. "I thought pizza night was your favourite."

His smile drooped just a bit. "Yer, well, I just . . . I mean, I'm just really not all that hungry tonight. Is that okay?"

Frankie studied him closely. "Yer. That's okay. Are _you_ okay?"

"Yes."

"Are you sure about that?"

"Uh-huh."

"Wilt. Are you going to tell me what's wrong, or am I going to have to tickle you?"

At this point, Wilt did pause the game and turned to Frankie. The absence of artificial gunfire and spacecraft whooshes heightened the uncomfortable silence. He shifted his position on the couch, seeming to shrink a bit and brought his knees together. ". . . I never could hide anything from you, could I?"

Frankie grinned sympathetically and shook her head. "Not when you look like a soap opera just crash-landed on your face. Let me guess . . . Eduardo?"

Wilt actually managed half a humourless laugh at that, though it sounded more like a choking noise. "You really don't miss a thing."

"Well, I am twenty-two. I like to think I've got half a brain in my head," she said, then looked at him expectantly.

He looked away, embarrassed. "Sorry, it's just . . . Just this whole messed up thing-"

"Hey, it's okay," she said, giving him a friendly pat on the shoulder, mindful, always, of his arm stump. "You really don't need to tell me anything you don't want to."

He gave her a grateful half-smile at that, because he really, really didn't want to explain certain aspects of the situation to her. As well as Frankie had dealt with giving Eduardo a crash course on Nature's Way, somehow he didn't feel that his skill in the art of the imaginary blowjob was on her side of the Need-To-Know threshold.

"All I can say," she continued, "is that you should take this up with him, get everything really sorted out, like. And Wilt, please just hear me out on this one, but it really wouldn't hurt you to think of yourself every now and then. You deserve to be happy just as much as anyone else, even if you might have to take a few chances here and there. Besides, since when has there been a happy ending without some sort of risk involved?"

He opened his mouth to counter her, to claim that he did, in fact, think of himself, but he closed it almost immediately. There was no arguing with Frankie, and she had the "Frankie-Is-Right" jar, overflowing with quarters to prove it. Instead, he just gave her a nod of acknowledgment. They had had this discussion before and she had made an excellent point, after all.

Satisfied, she rose from her seat on the couch. "Well, if that's that, I'd better get downstairs so I can get the pizza on the table. Sure you won't come down?"

"Yer, I'd rather stay here, if that's okay," Wilt said, picking up the controller and resuming his game. "Thanks, Frankie."

"It's what I'm here for," Frankie replied, turning to leave. However, she halted in her tracks and called over her shoulder, "Oh, by the by, Wilt, for future reference, you miiight want to tell Ed to keep it down. These walls aren't all that thick and his voice carries rather well."

One knowing wink and three steps later, she was gone and Wilt's digital spaceship had crashed nosecone-first into an oncoming digital comet.


	4. And Now, Something Completely Different

The blank, white void echoed with Eduardo's heavy, booted footfalls as he entered. The sounds were soon joined by the faint squeal of Wilt's trainers against the non-existent floor. Both imaginary friends carried notecards in their hooves and hand, respectively.

"We've been asked to give an announcement," Wilt announced, already feeling his legs beginning to shake. Speaking in front of crowds was not something he took well to. "Um, on behalf of Prince Fala, author of this fanfiction you are reading . . ."

Eduardo noticed the other friend was beginning to falter and came to his rescue. He took up his cards and begun reading from them in the short, stuttery fashion of an elementary school child who has just been asked to read aloud from a hideously boring textbook.

"To readers of this fanfic, both friend and foe. There is one last chapter due for this fic, so please forgive the intermission. It is has come to the Prince's attention that not everyone is enjoying this fanfic. Quite acceptable. We are all entitled to our tastes and dislike is only human. The Prince also acknowledges that others are quite entitled to disagree with any and all aspects of this and other works. However, when dislike and disagreement escalate to hurling abuse and death threats, that is when things start getting silly.

"The Prince has no intent of catering to small-minded individuals who can not accept the fact that other people have opinions and ideas, nor will she be threatened by those who have nothing better to do than piddle round the internet, devouring clearly-labelled things they know they will hate and consequently vomiting idiocy. The Prince adds that coming from a Scottish family, lengthy chains of swearwords have precious little impact at this point.

"The Prince would like to add that all support and praise and general niceties projected thus far are greatly appreciated. Many thanks to all of you lovely petals who took a moment to say that you liked what you read. Thanks also to those who took a moment to say that you did NOT like what you read, but had the decency to say as much in a civil and intelligent manner.

"In conclusion, to all potential serial killers, violently enthused conservatives and anonymous cowards who have nothing better to do than rail at slash fanauthors as if there aren't greater problems in the world, the Prince extends a cordial invitation to the kitchen table for hot crumpets, cool sandwiches and a nice cup of get a goddamned life."

Both imaginary friends exchanged a wince at that last bit and put their cards away.

"That was a lot of big words," Eduardo commented, a little worn out from the lengthy speech. "Did people really do all that stuff?"

Wilt nodded. "Yer, I saw one of the notes they left in the author's blog . . ." He narrowed his eye in thought. "I liked the bit about how I was a really nice guy who didn't deserve to have bad sh- _stuff_ written about me. Though I'm not sure not sure I appreciate the bit about him or her having killed numerous people who dared to make fun of me."

"Oo, oh, did they say anything about me?" Eduardo queried, bouncing with morbid curiousity like a child in the "where babies come from" wing of a discovery museum.

"Oh you were mentioned, but just briefly. They couldn't care less about you," Wilt said, gesturing dismissively. "Authors could probably write meticulously detailed stories about how you were doomed to an eternal holiday in the seven circles of hell where you were burned in the fires of agony, ripped limb from limb, glazed with gravy and then set upon by pirhanas, just as long as they didn't write me as gay."

"The pirahnas?"

"No, the authors."

"Oh."

There was an awkward pause in which the two just stared at each other.

"So . . ." Eduardo began, tilting an eyebrow. "Es we gay?"

Wilt frowned contemplatively. "That's what I'm wondering. I mean, clearly, you love me. And according to the Happy Endings clause of the Author's Contract, I'm bound to love you, too. In this fic, anyway. If we do love each other in the actual series, it's definitely not been made official, I do not think . . ."

Eduardo mumbled something along the lines of, "Not while the cameras are rolling . . ."

"But what really confuses me," Wilt continued, "Well, look at it this way. The author of this fic never said either of us was gay. The Prince just said we're in love."

"Good point." Eduardo agreed, nodding.

All of the sudden, a great hole was ripped in the void and an enormous biro came through it. The pen's tip poked Wilt in the belly, and he let out a little "oof!" of realisation. "Oh right, I almost forgot! Sorry!" he called up to the hole. The pen seemed satisfied and withdrew, the hole patching itself up again as if it had never been there.

"The author has just reminded me that one of these lovely individuals made a request in their charmingly violent messages; It reads, 'Unless you apologise and tell me you don't really think he's gay, I'm keeping my word that I will kill your a-'" Wilt cut himself off, grinning awkwardly. "Well, you get the idea."

"That's all?" Ed queried, raising his unibrow. That is not so hard."

Wilt nodded. "Right then. On three."

"Uno, dos, tres."

"On behalf of the Prince, we are sorry. We are not gay," The two imaginary friends said in unison, grinning beautifically. ". . . We're bi!"


	5. Chapter 4

**Scar Tissue - CHAPTER FOUR**

_By: Fala "The Bus Esta Muerto" Tzipori  
_  
**Written:** Winter, 2006  
**Fandom:** Foster's Home For Imaginary Friends  
**Rating:** R  
**Genre:** Romance, angst  
**Pairing(s):** Wilt/Eduardo  
**Warnings:** Slash (same-sex relations), sexuality (fairly explicit), mature situations, implied child abuse and sexual violence, strife and fluff.

**Plot:** Eduardo finds himself in an uncomfortable position. Fortunately, Wilt has always been there to help a friend in need, but will his charity get him in too deep?

**Spoilers:** None, I don't think.

**Thanks and dedications:** Praises pile high like the rubbish on the floor of my flat for Cousin Sarky who is, hands down, the most extraordinarily ace beta reader on the face of the internet. Seriously, I cannot thank you enough. Really, thank you for putting up with me and slogging through all thirty-some pages of this. You rule beyond words. A side note to Danni, aka Xellinamazoku, aka Grips from inspiring me to try my hand at these two in the first place. Lots o' loff to ye, dear.

**ALSO! After my previous bit of snarky rebuttal . . . I have a lot of nice people to thank before the fic can proceed **

Summerwing: Applause? Why . . . thank you::bows:

Jess: I'm glad you like it so highly thus far. I do hope you like this final chapter as much.

Kia1334: Now, now, people are quite entitled to like and dislike whatever they please. Freedom of the press is a double-edged blade. Though I can't deny I'm flattered that someone would be moved to such a . . . display in my defence ; You may expect another email from me very soon, but I thought I'd give you a wee note of thanks here as well. Thank you!

AmiQuinton26: Well, I extend a wave and a hello to a fellow forum-trotter! I'm pleasantly surprised to hear from you on this matter, given your lack of love for this pairing. It's so very gratifying to hear that my writing can keep you reading when the subject cannot. Thank you so much

Nyachu: Thank you so much! Keeping everyone believable is a top priority with me in my fanfiction. As to whether on not it's canonically accurate to the series, I stand by my motto; It wouldn't happen, but it could. Thanks for commenting! Much appreciated

don't know what I'm doing: Glad to hear you want to see more! Here you are, and thank you!

Antgirl1: Oh wow, I've inadvertently corrupted someone! I do that sometimes . . . ; I'm glad that you're enjoying my work and that my fic could broaden your horizons. As I was saying to Ami, it makes me feel so accomplished to know that my writing/art has drawn people into new territories of fandom. Thank you so much! I'm very glad to hear that you've liked what you've read so far and I hope you'll like the rest of it just as much

RealWilt: Yes, there are more anti-slashers than many people realise. Actually, while most of my previous fandoms have been pretty well-balanced in that respect, the Foster's fandom in particular has the most tipped scales I've yet seen in my experience (i.e. the anti-slashers greatly outnumber the slashers). Understandable, really. Everyone's got their vices and one of mine just happens to be ambiguously preferential imaginary friends :P Your support and kind words are much appreciated. Thank you!

LadyDeathStrike1: Ha ha, yes, you would think that people would realise that the Back button actually takes you away from the page you're looking at, non? All poking-fun-at-idiocy aside, I'm very glad to hear that you find my representations of Wilt and Eduardo insightful and interesting. Just because they're two-dimensional on the screen doesn't mean thev've not got any depth! I shall resist the urge to make a Duchess reference and simply say thank you very much for your supportive comments

A random lurker: That there are people open-minded enough to explore new territory and appreciate a person's writing makes me very glad. Trust me, you couldn't stop me from writing if you poured sticky toffee on my keyboard. He he, thanks!

Everyone: Thanks for reading and thanks especially for those who took a moment to share their thoughts on my work, good or bad. Compliments are snuggled to the point of bursting, constructive criticism is placed high up on a pillar to be admired for all time, and flames are used to light the fire in my girlfriend's pants. It is all very much appreciated. You lot so totally rool.

**Whew! And now, as they say in Monty Python, GET ON WITH IT!**

**Disclaimers:** Wilt, Eduardo, and the characters in this story belong to Craig McCracken. Here's hoping he's not reading this right now, else his next appearance will be sans eyeballs (having ripped them out with sporks). In any case, they're his, not mine (both the eyeballs and the aforementioned characters, mind you) and will be returned in almost working order.

**Story Notes:** This takes place shortly after Bloo arrives at Foster's while Eduardo is still fairly new himself (he's only been there for a few months). For those who have not seen the episode, _The Big Lablooski_, Wilt can, indeed, stretch his arm to an undetermined length. Enjoy!

**Scar Tissue**

Eduardo turned in early that day. There was really nothing else for it. While everyone was still at dinner, he hopped out of bed to unlock the door, knowing that Mr. Herriman would come round and unlock it anyway come bedtime.

He supposed he should have expected things to turn out the way they had. Stupid Wilt, putting on like he knew everything. With his stupid optimism, stupid (yet charming) smile, and stupid complete and utter selflessness . . . He might've won the Friend Of The Month award twenty-seven months running, but he was also the dumbest friend in the house, so there! How dare they call him, Eduardo, the scaredy-baby when Wilt was so piss-scared of a little love? Or a lot of love, for that matter. A whole stinking heap of it, even . . . Eduardo sniffled and mopped at his face with his already damp forearm.

Pulling himself up to the top bunk, he burrowed miserably under the covers, intent on becoming a mountain of snoring shagginess to the world. He didn't think he could deal with his room mates tonight and if sleep didn't take him for real, he was bent on pretending in order to avoid interrogation.

Fortunately, it wasn't too long and his pillow was only half-damp before sleep did him a kindness and claimed him.

Shutting the out the world in the dark, womb-like sanctuary of slumber was, indeed an effective escape. Effective, but ephemeral, also. Especially when an unfed stomach was involved.

Thus, shortly after midnight, Eduardo was carefully edging out of bed. Landing as lightly as six hundred pounds of imaginary minotaur could manage, he tiptoed toward the door, unfettered by the usual trepidation he faced in this scenario. More often than not, he had Wilt accompany him whenever he needed to make a nighttime trip to the toilet or to the kitchen for a glass of water. Hallways were no doddle, after all. Flock wallpaper could move about in the dark, you know.

However, he was most definitely not speaking to Wilt, even when the dangers of traversing hallways alone loomed. So, when hunger gnawed him awake, he screwed up what courage he had into a tight little ball and left for the kitchen, not even daring to look behind at the gap between the lower bunk and the floor where Wilt slept.

Having braved the long corridors and stairways at a clipped pace, Eduardo finally found himself standing before the refridgerator. Despite Mr. Herriman's strict "No attendance, no dinner" policy, Frankie always set aside a little something for those who couldn't make it to the table. Sure enough, he found a three slices of pizza on a paper plate labelled with a sticky-note that read "Eduardo" in Frankie's looping, semi-cursive hand.

He downed the pizza without relish, though it made his stomach a bit happier, and began the trek back to his room. He rounded the corner, putting him on the hallway that would bring him to his bedroom door, dodging the shadows that spiked out at him from the walls. As he drew closer to the door, he vaguely wondered if it would hurt, should one of those sharp-looking shapes bite him . . .

Eduardo nearly jumped out of his trousers when he felt a sudden tug from behind. He looked round to see his tail being grasped, not by any fanged spawn of night, but an all-too familiar hand. Apprehension prodding his heart with lukewarm fingers, his gaze followed the attached arm, which extended all the way down to the end of the hall. The limb finally ended when a tall figure stepped out of the shadows.

It was Wilt. Of course it was Wilt. Blast, Eduardo had forgotten about that crazy, elastic arm . . .

He was closing the distance between them, striding slowly down the hall, and Eduardo's breath died in his throat. Dim light and darkness from the windows swam over Wilt in a geometric calico as he moved, dreamlike in the stillness, his arm shortening accordingly till it had returned to its normal length and he was standing before the other friend.

"Hi," he said quietly.

It took a few moments for Eduardo to get out of the spellbound funk he'd fallen into. He fumbled for a response. "Hola," he finally managed, his voice equally small and teetering. Something in the vicinity of his ribcage turned a nervous circle when he felt that hand release his tail.

"Do you, um . . . wanna talk for a bit? With me?" Wilt's voice was soft with caution but the still and deserted hallway echoed, his words resonating eerily in the darkness.

Eduardo's fur bristled with shivers. Remembering he had to breathe, he exhaled slowly. "Si, okay."

Their short journey to the sitting room passed in an impersonal patchwork of shadowed walls and carpet underfoot. Soon enough, Eduardo was sat uncomfortably on the couch, twiddling the points of his hooves in his lap. Wilt took a seat on the coffee table, directly across from him. Despite his earlier resolution to catch Eduardo so that they might speak to each other face-to-face, he was having trouble meeting his friend's eyes.

Eduardo was having no trouble holding up his end of the eye contact part. It was his heart that he was having problems with, and trying to deflate the hope that was swelling within it, squelching out the bitter anger that had previously occupied that space. Hope had already hurt him once today . . . Had it returned to rub salt into the wound?

"Eduardo, look . . ." Wilt finally began, the uncertainty in his voice making it sound foreign and crooked. "I'm sorry about today. Sorry if I hurt your feelings. It's just . . . don't you think this is a bit much? And a bit fast?"

Eduardo just blinked. "No."

Wilt sighed a bit. "That's because you're young, you don't know how these things work. But listen, you're a great friend and I like you a lot-"

"You es lying. You no like me at all!" Eduardo snapped, some of the bitterness creeping back into him. He scowled and crossed his arms heavily over his chest.

"I'm sorry, but that's just not true." Wilt broke in.

"When we were talking, you would not even look at me." Eduardo growled, glaring. He felt an odd, nibbling satisfaction when the tall imaginary friend winced at his tone. After what he had done to Eduardo, Wilt wasn't getting off scot-free.

Taking a deep breath, Wilt forced himself to look up and face the bigger friend. "I'm sorry. Really, I am. I do like you. You're my best friend and I thought I was being a good friend to help you when you needed it. I didn't mean for it to go this far."

"But why not?" Eduardo implored, sated somewhat by the apologetic look on Wilt's face. "Why is it such bad thing to go this far?"

Wilt took a deep breath, steeling himself. He had to see this through, no matter how much it hurt Eduardo. Or him, for that matter. It was for their own good. "I just don't know if either of us is really ready for something like this. And you could do so much better. There are things others could give you that I just can't. In case you've forgotten, I could never . . ." He gestured awkwardly, then grimaced at his own dated slang. "Make love with you properly. I . . . I was made this way specifically. My little girl knew a lot of misery from these things and she created me because she wanted a friend who couldn't do those things to her, even if he wanted to." He took another deep breath and released it slowly. That last part was a big leap of faith. Years ago, it had taken Frankie a long time to drag the story of his past out of him and he hadn't spoken of it to anyone else ever since. The stirring of dormant memories left his heart tight, beating in short, painful throbs.

His efforts, however, were lost on the other friend, who simply processed the words without considering their true, bitter flavour. "I no care," Eduardo said with feeling, though he was audibly exhausted at having to reiterate this point. "I don't care about that, and I don't care that you are older than me. Besides, you are only older because you had more than one kid."

This was true. Wilt had been a double-generation friend; When his little girl was not a little girl anymore, she had given him to her brother who kept him on for a few years before . . . Well, before it all fell apart. Eduardo, on the other hand, hadn't been with his little girl very long at all. He'd barely come to know their crowded Ecuador town before the family was crossing borders, bound for the United States. They hadn't even unpacked the last box when she'd had her accident.

Wilt also had to admit, though they'd been in the world for vastly different stretches of time, physically they weren't very different at all. Imaginary friends didn't generally age as humans did unless their creators specifically equipped them with that particular mechanism. Beyond all of the ambiguity involved, Eduardo was physically and mentally coming into his own and underneath all of the scars and hardship, Wilt was just as youthful as he had been all those years ago.

He looked to Eduardo, who was regarding him with a seldom-seen hardness in his eyes, his hooves hanging like fists at his side. "I tell you again, I don't care that you are older, I don't care that you can't make love, and I don't care that you are broken. I. Don't. Care."

Eduardo was stamping at the floor, making the entire room reverberate and shaking his head, his likeness to a bull all the more pronounced. Wilt let him carry on, let him let it out. He needed a moment to think. What it all came down to was that both friends had abandonment complexes a mile wide, and that was precisely what made this such a risky endeavour; It was all too easy for someone to come away from it hurt, for wounds to be reopened.

Then again, piped up a timid little voice at the back of his mind, perhaps it was precisely this understanding of each other that made them so perfect for one another . . .

The tirade quieted and left Eduardo regarding his friend with sad, tired eyes. "You are so nice to me. Nice to me, helping me through everything, being a good guy, always. You should let someone be good to you for once." He sighed hugely, looking pitifully close to defeat. In what was clearly a last resort, he said, "You no have to love Eduardo back. Just . . . let Eduardo love you. Por favor?"

Wilt's mouth fell open. He had expected tears and pleading and tantrums. He had not expected that . . . He was known round the house as the helper friend, the one always willing to lend his one and only hand, the one who always said "yes." As such, people asked him for things every day, but never had he been requested to simply accept a gift.

He'd spent all of his new life at Foster's shutting out the things that had only ended up hurting him before. Wilt had been up for adoption long enough to know that it would never happen for him. After all, how many children would chose a broken toy when there were other more gently used and unmarred playthings to be had? He had grown accustomed to the idea of never having a kid again, and at this point, he almost hoped for it. After all, caring for someone had wounded him twice over already.

. . . But the notion that someone might care for him? And unconditionally? Frankie's words echoed in his mind, "_You deserve to be happy just as much as anyone else, even if you might have to take a few chances here and there."_

In the stuttering stretch of a prolonged heartbeat, it gave him pause . . . "_Besides, since when has there been a happy ending without some sort of risk involved?"_

Could he really spend the rest of his life hiding from the future like he hid from the past?

Whatever Eduardo said next passed in an indistinct blur, Wilt was so hopelessly lost in thought. When he'd finally managed to collect himself somewhat, he lifted his hand. "You don't need to say any more," he managed to utter, still blown away. Then, he slowly looked up to face the other friend, a few strains of courage slowly rising. "I . . . I think . . ."

"Si?" Eduardo prompted, shifting his weight and leaning forward in anticipation.

"Well, I did say before" At this point, Wilt's voice was trembling and though Eduardo couldn't see it against his already red complexion, he was blushing. "I want to be there for you if you'll have me."

At first, all Eduardo could do was blink and stare. Then the blush surfaced and he was grinning behind his hooves. Wilt couldn't suppress his own smile any longer and let it bloom, bright and warm like lamplight across his face. He let out a sliver of a yelp as he was swept off of the coffee table and into Eduardo's arms. The bigger imaginary friend reeled him in close, nuzzling against the side of his face, ever mindful of the scars. Though quietly elated, Wilt was still uncertain as he looped his arm round his friend's broad middle, letting his own long limb sink into layers of soft, dense fur. This was all very new to him and he honestly wasn't sure how to proceed. He felt he could hazard a guess, though . . .

Confused when the other friend pulled away from him, Eduardo released Wilt and leaned back to ask what was wrong. Then he saw that Wilt's face was downturned, that slender, scarlet hand venturing south.

No. Not tonight.

Eduardo lifted a hoof to stop the hand that was reaching for his belt buckle. Wilt looked down at his hand, then back up at his friend, puzzled. Monitoring Wilt's expression carefully, Eduardo leaned in, feeling the other friend tense beneath his hooves. A faint gasp escaped Wilt's lips just before Eduardo touched them with his own.

He let Wilt pull away just a little bit, enough to let the shock settle. He had clearly not been expecting that. Eduardo could feel him trembling, could hear that his breath had grown short. Giving him a brief moment to recover somewhat, Eduardo very slowly closed the distance between them again, touching down gently against Wilt's slightly open mouth, careful of his teeth.

Wilt didn't kiss him back. He couldn't. He had frozen in Eduardo's arms, overwhelmed. As friends, they had hugged before and Wilt himself had really taken their relationship to its furthest over the past week, but this . . . This was different. It certainly wasn't an innocent display of close friendship, but it wasn't sexual, either. This was something between, yet also beyond either, a different breed of intimacy altogether. He honestly couldn't tell how he felt about it. It was simply . . . there, in all its intensity and splendour, frightening, yet beautiful, rendering him helpless as it spread tendrils of radiance through his being. This must have been what Eduardo had meant when he said he didn't want Wilt "just for that."

It was in this moment that he experienced his second revelation that night. He'd thought it was Eduardo who still had so much to learn, but perhaps it was he who had never known some things.

Though Wilt's lips were parted a bit, Eduardo kept the kiss dry, just a gentle brush of skin on skin, just a hint of velvety friction between them. He couldn't have attempted anything further without running the risk of accidentally hurting the other friend. Sometimes even he forgot how dangerous his teeth could be. He felt Wilt's tense muscles fall lax beneath his hooves, but still, Wilt did not kiss him back. After prolonging his efforts a bit further with no result, Eduardo pulled back to gauge his friend's reaction. He'd been disappointed by the lack of response, but his heart nearly stopped at what he saw.

Wilt's mouth hung slightly open as he regarded his friend, his expression awestruck. His hand rose wonderingly of its own volition, the pads of his fingers finding his lips where Eduardo had just covered them. A tear fell from his good eye, splashing down to his face.

Eduardo felt something sink inside of him when he saw Wilt lift that shaking hand, thinking he was going to use it to push him away. Wilt, however, simply placed his palm against the side of Eduardo's face, silently urging him closer.

Relief and elation washing over him, Eduardo happily obliged. Again, Wilt gasped into the kiss, but it was not a gasp of alarm this time. His hand found Eduardo's forearm and he held on, moving his mouth clumsily against the other's. It was awkward, even aside from the size disparity and constant threat of sharp teeth between them. Kissing Wilt's mouth, Eduardo tasted an apology.

Finally, Wilt broke away, only to press his face against the juncture between Eduardo's head and shoulder, nosing deep into his fur. Eduardo didn't question him. He simply folded both arms round the other friend's slight frame, feeling him shudder with emotion. He hoped he hadn't done something wrong, but he didn't dare ask. He had a feeling Wilt wouldn't be able to answer if he did. He could wait for answers and would wait as long as it took. For the moment, Eduardo simply held him and let him breathe.

Then Wilt lifted his head, scrubbing at his eye with his knuckles. Eduardo just blinked, finally brave enough to ask, "Was that okay?" The irony of him being the one to pose this question didn't really sink in till the other friend regarded him, a bit bewildered, for a moment.

Coming back to himself at last, Wilt nodded in response. It took him a moment to regain his power of speech and his voice had a quavering dampness to it when he spoke. "Sorry about that, Ed. I . . . I don't know what came over me."

Eduardo shook his head. "No be sorry." He smiled and pulled Wilt close again to nuzzle him affectionately, purring, "No reason for sorry any more. No more sorry, no more sorry . . ."

Wilt let out a little "oof!" as he was squished in Eduardo's massive arms and jostled about by his friend's big, warm nose. "Okay, okay!" he laughed, placating the other friend with a pat on the head. "Okay, I'm _not_ sorry!"

Eduardo tilted his eyebrow, but a giggle was bubbling behind his teeth. "So . . . Did you actually mean what you said? With the being there for me next time?"

Wilt smiled awkwardly, leaning away only slightly just enough to put an inch or so between their faces. "What, you mean like commitment?"

Eduardo tilted his head at a questioning angle. "Com-mitment?" he shaped the foreign, cumbersome word with effort. "Que esta . . . Com-'commentment'?"

Wilt had to admit that was just too goshdarned cute. He indulged in a soft chuckle. "Never mind. To answer your question, yes, I will." Wilt broke out into a helpless grin. All of his body was enclosed within the warm sanctuary of his friend's arms, and he extended his own arm round the broad, shaggy back so that he could return the embrace. Feeling safer and surer than he could remember, he leaned his head against Eduardo's own and smiled against his cheek. "Yer. This is definitely okay."

end


End file.
